The Gray Palace
by arwenishtar
Summary: The Pink Palace wasn't always so pretty and pink; a long time ago, it was a grim structure called the Gray Palace. When a grieving young boy moves in, he has no idea the dark forces he's awoken. To think it all started with unlocking a door... Rated K for slightly darker content.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Welcome to your new home, Master Grady," intoned a voice as gray as its surroundings.

Young Mr. Grady, or Henry, as he preferred to be known to his closest friends, gazed out the window into the cold, unforgiving sleet. His manservant, Yates, had failed to bring any hope at all for his new home with his rousing introduction, but perhaps the house looked better than the tone of voice implied. Sadly, what he saw failed to impress him. Truthfully, he wasn't impressed by anything these days-not since his parents had died in a boating accident. Still, the house on Grey Hill managed to make him feel even more disillusioned with his life, if that was at all possible.

There was a reason it was called The Palace. It was practically a stone fortress-at least, that's what it was built to be. Already, sections of it were in a minor state of disrepair. The tallest tower was leaning away from it, like it wished to pull away from the building itself. Henry sympathized-he wanted to escape, too. Unfortunately, this was as impossible for him as a tower running away.

 _Welcome to the Palace_ , he thought sarcastically as they rode closer. Slumping in his seat, he patiently awaited his fate.

If only he'd known what Fate had in store for him.

* * *

"Please, sir, allow me," the butler said as he took hold of Henry's baggage. Henry stared at the Palace, as empty as the house before him. While the structure was imposing, it was lifeless-the stones had chipped away in some places, the stone steps leading up to the front door were crumbling, and a window on the upper floor was shattered. Everything about the Palace screamed misery, which didn't give him any hope that his life would be better here. At least in his old home, there were relics of his old life-books, toys, furniture, and more. True, the memories etched into the walls were painful reminders, but at least they'd been acknowledgments of his parents; his old house had made it easier to reminisce about when they'd been a family.

In the Palace, he had nothing.

The interior of the mansion enforced the general, gloomy atmosphere. The walls and paintings were varying tones of grey, with the occasional black piece of furniture. There were no paintings or decorations of any kind. _THIS_ _is where I'm to grow up?_

A tiny door caught his eye in the living room. Who would install a door that size in a place where everything else felt grandiose? Curiously, he turned the handle...

And found the door was locked.

* * *

 **Hello!**

 **This is my first Coraline story. I hope you like it! As usual, please feel free to review and comment-it's very helpful.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Coraline characters. Please don't expect me to keep saying that at the end of every chapter. LOL Henry is my character (in a way). Have fun!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Over the next few days, he tried alleviating his boredom by exploring, which there was plenty to do. The Palace was huge-he lost track of how many bedrooms, closets, and bathrooms he walked into. Regardless of the vastness of his new home, he felt sure he'd explored every nook and cranny within two weeks. Every space, that is, except the tiny, wooden door. The door he could not open, which was driving him crazy.

Soon, he had other things to occupy his mind as he settled into a familiar routine. After his servants had unpacked and sorted everything, they forced him back into it.

First thing in the morning, he did his morning exercises-these were designed specifically to help alleviate his scoliosis and the injuries he'd suffered from the boating accident. He hated them, but felt they were necessary. Without them, his spine would become more crooked than it already was. At least he wouldn't have to use a cane when he grew up this way.

Next, came a meager breakfast of eggs and toast. He gobbled down his food just so he wouldn't have to sit with dry old Yates and his ancient Governess. The latter he'd have to spend more time with later anyway.

Then, his _favorite_ part of the day-lessons. He _adored_ history and writing, but dreaded art and geography. Actually, he preferred geography- or indeed, almost any other subject- besides art. For some reason, his efforts resulted in mere scribbles on the page. It annoyed him.

However, his least favorite activity was gym. That he despised even more than art! Sports like swimming and running only made him feel inadequate. Nonetheless, his couch insisted they'd do wonders for his spine and aid his recovery.

Naturally, the only thing that could possibly cap such a daily schedule was a ridiculously early bedtime; his governess read him a story every night around seven o'clock and he was expected to pass out like a good little boy. Only he couldn't. Instead of doing something fun, he lay awake for hours on end, at least until after midnight, reliving the day, trying fruitlessly to count sheep, allowing random thoughts to buzz around in his head, or (during most nights) relive the accident.

Early bedtimes were a colossal waste of time.

One night, the fire of the boating accident was disrupted by an odd scratching sound. _Wonderful. Probably rodents! I wonder which is be worse, mice or rats? Probably rats._ He was so tired, almost too tired to be concerned. Still, he had no choice but to investigate- the noise was just loud enough to prevent sleep, and persistent enough to be annoying. Groggily, Henry sat up and looked around. His night vision wasn't that great, so he lit a candle- enough to see a naked, pink tail disappear around the door frame.

"Bother," he murmured. He seriously considered calling for his governess, as rats made him distinctly uncomfortable, but the walls and darkness felt immensely oppressive. Somehow, he sensed calling out would be as useless as trying to fall asleep- his governess might as well be in another house, instead of across the hall. For some reason, he felt completely on his own.

Well, he may as well be brave about it. Hoisting himself out of bed, he slipped into his cozy slippers and followed the thing out of his room.

By the time he'd followed the scratching to the living room, the animal had vanished. He hesitated to put even his toe across the threshold, for it felt like the room- nay, the entire house- was holding its breath. Waiting for him to make his first move.

 _What do you want from me?_ Now, having calmed down a tad, he felt more intrigued than afraid- he'd never felt the way he did in this house. Houses were supposed to be safe, warm, and inviting. The Gray Palace was alive. And it was challenging him.

Well, challenge accepted. Cautiously yet boldly, he entered the room to find the tiny door open and waiting for him.

* * *

 **Hello! Please leave your reviews and comments below. The Beldam waits to eat them up.**

 **Seriously, though, any comments would be helpful, as long as they're not full of hate. Hate never really helped anyone.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

For some odd reason, he felt the need to tiptoe across the room, though he knew it was a moot point- his governess could sleep through anything, and at any rate, the feeling of her and the butler being out of reach lingered, spurring him onward. Upon reaching the dwarf door, he released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and knelt upon one knee to peek through. _Odd, I thought she kept it locked._ Could the rat have unlocked it? Doubtful, but one never knew.

Initially, the crawlspace- or whatever it was- was exactly what he'd been expecting: nothing, just black nothingness. A nothingness that felt persistently alive, but a nothingness nonetheless. A nothingness that disquieted him. Then, he squinted closer.

A pinprick, laser point of light blinked into sight. A light that quickly spread, gaining momentum as it approached. Instinctively he ducked, only to watch in amazement as the light expanded into an ornately decorated room. His living room. Words failed to reach his tongue as he observed the spark of light illuminate- or did it bring into being?- the entire space.

He was home. He'd never left. Yet he knew he should have left, that he'd traveled... What was this place? A mockery? A dream? A rough pinch confirmed it wasn't the latter. A hallucination, perhaps? In that instant, he silently vowed to never again wander around alone at night. Especially not after consuming food of questionable quality- that tuna had smelled suspiciously fishy.

Wherever or whatever this place was, it was occupied; he heard humming down the hallway. Why, he wondered, should he be surprised his own kitchen was waiting for him at the end of it? Yet surprised he was. What shocked him more was the person- no, being- cooking within.

Even with her back turned towards him, Henry would have recognized her anywhere. Graceful curves formed her hourglass figure while her snow-white arms busied themselves with pots and pans and food. Various soft shades of gray adorned her, though without the familiar hint of pale blue he was so fond of. Her navy black hair curled down midway down her back. It was good to know he stil remembered her so well; had his memories somehow brought her back to flesh-and-blood? He wasn't sure anymore.

Only one way to find out. "Mama?"

* * *

 **Hello readers!**

 **I am SO sorry I haven't updated this story in so long. I honestly thought no one was reading this until one lovely fan reviewed it. Thank you so much, Storms in my Coffee! I hope I don't disappoint you!**

 **I'll try to update this more regularly, basically winging it as I go lol. Enjoy this and future chapters, guys! And please don't forget to review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Dearest! I've missed you so much!" she smiled, spreading her arms in what was obviously meant to be a welcoming embrace. Yet it was hard to be warm and welcoming when you and your surroundings were cold and hardened, and naturally Henry hesitated, reluctant to approach.

"No, you're not my mother. There's just no way you could be..." He chocked off the final bit of the sentence; even now, the grief threatened to overwhelm him like a black hole expanding from within. This mockery of her standing before him was of no help- for mockery she was. The first true hint of that was the blackest glimmer from her coal button eyes. Standing there in the kitchen, he finally understood what people meant when they said part of you dies with your loved one does, for he felt a snippet of his cold, blue heart shrivel further when that foolish spark of hope sputtered out. As that tiny part of himself was extinguished, a strange resolve replaced it: whoever this 'mother' was, she was not to be trusted. She was a lie, all of it was a lie. An inner voice, similar to his governess'es, urged him to flee; just as with his governess, he perversely chose to stay. This way he could have a proper exploring adventure.

Lowering her arms, she tilted her head at him, like a curious child- or a puzzled animal. "No, I'm not your mum, but all you ever needed her to be. I'm your other mother, dear!"

"My 'other mother'?"

"Yes. Now have a seat while I make breakfast." She turned her back toward him as she busied herself with the stove.

A dining chair and table stood nearby for his convenience. As if to pester him, Henry's stomach growled loudly enough to disturb the Fair Folk as he reluctantly sat down. Was that double scrambled eggs with toast and honeyed jam? He hadn't enjoyed that since before the accident! Might as well enjoy as much as he could. She even remembered to pour the cream over his toast! None of the servants back home took such attentive care to his needs; their efforts were sloppy at best, with frequent spills and stumbles and shattered dishes and burnt bread.

Perhaps this place was worth investigating. He was still wary of the strangeness of it all, but with food and nurturing like this, who needed to return home? Especially when home no longer existed for him?

"Want to play a game?" The Other Mother said, the shadow of a small playing across her scarlet mouth. Somehow, despite his resolve to linger in this bizarre world, he recoiled as she leaned over him- somehow, her smile was more disturbing than if she'd have yelled at him.

Well, if she was coercing him or trying to frighten him, he was more than up for the challenge. "Certainly, if you'd like. Right after I finish breakfast- or supper."

"Of course! Whatever pleases you, my dear!" She sat down to his right, clasping her hands before her and gazing at him eagerly. Really, she truly reminded him of a young child. Ignoring the sudden silence, Henry determinedly nibbled on his food until he'd consumed it all and released the fork with a soft clatter. "What would you like to play? Tag? Puppets? Hide-and-seek?"

Something told him hide-and-seek would prove to be a very poor choice. "Tag will be fine." With that, their competition began.

For the first time in months, Henry laughed as he raced the Other Mother up and down the halls, through doorways, up the staircase. He barely noticed his surrounding as they played, failing to see as they morphed and twisted until they no longer resembled the Gray Palace, but a far more familiar territory... At long last, both contestants collapsed as they reached the bottom landing of the stairs, erupting into giggled a final time. He won, of course. Hearing her laughter was the best prize he could have won.

He hadn't exercised so much in weeks. He was comatose to the point where he didn't feel the Other Mother slide her arms beneath his body and carry him to his bedroom upstairs. Despite his fatigue, he was aware enough to listen to her lingering, whispering lullaby of longing; the same one his real mother sang to him every night.

He'd never hoped he would hear it again. He'd have given his very essence to hear her voice forever.

* * *

 **Elly: I hope I haven't kept you waiting for too long! Hope you're still reading this story lol. To everyone else: PLEASE enjoy and leave your reviews! I will try to update more regularly. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Even before opening his eyes, Henry sensed he'd been returned to his bedroom in the Gray Palace. Devastatingly disappointing. What was worse was his governess shrieking at him to get up for breakfast. He rose, wishing he'd dissolve into the bland shadows of the daily monotony his life had become.

No such luck. Far from disappearing, Henry grew more acutely aware of his routine than usual as he was forced to endure it, forced to live it. Outwardly, he strove to maintain his neutrally bored countenance, and his servants suspected nothing. Yet spiritually, everything had changed for him. Now, he had a refuge, and a magical one at that. One where his Mama could return to him, at least as nearly as possible. Part of him understood the being who dwelled in the Other Realm, (as he came to call that place), was not his mother, but he didn't care. In the Other World, his past could live again, and so could he.

Live he did, every night, a quarter past midnight, he scurried to the living room, perpetually finding the door crooked oped like a wooden fingernail beckoning him. Every night, he found Her waiting for him with smiling, moon-white open arms ready to embrace him; this motivated him far more than the glorious feasts or gleaming toys did. Looking anywhere but at her puppet, button eyes, he willingly went along with her suggestions, which weren't many- most times, he was the one making suggestions. Another rather welcome change from his day-life.

Mostly, he was content with hide-and-seek and knights, but occasionally he was in the mood for an exploring game, to which the Other Mother most joyfully complied. Almost as if she could sense his desires, before bedtime she left little trinkets hidden around the mansion, teasing him with itty-bitty hints left on his pillow or dresser. Not in the mood to sleep, Henry would hunt these gifts down until he located them. They weren't valuable- a toy train, a stuffed bunny- but it was the challenge of finding them that he found rewarding. Only upon completing these "quests" did he allow himself the bliss of the lullaby and another dreamless sleep.

The only drawback he suffered was being magically returned to the "real" world after he fell asleep. Trying to prevent this, he fought against droopy eyelids, but the Sandman always won in the end.

Little did he realize sleep was the only thing keeping him safe...


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The more he lived in the Other World, the less he did in this one. Sadly, that's one thing he failed to understand among many.

His servants feared something was wrong with him, deathly wrong, but he ignored as usual. What might have alarmed them so, you may ask? Well, the prune-colored bruises beneath his eyes, his suddenly constant fatigue, and snarkish remarks alarmed them greatly. Their once quiet, thoughtful (if solemn) master appeared to have joined the ranks of the living dead. A doctor was called for one evening when he lost his temper and hurled his bowl at the unfortunate butler- most abnormal behavior.

Sadly, the doctor was of no help. By all medical definitions, young Henry should have been healthy, for he could find no signs of any known diseases. Nothing could explain his striking attitude change, either, except perhaps his parents' deaths. But they'd occurred months ago... Ultimately, the best he was able to do was subscribe some potent herbs for tea, which he instructed the governess to administer before bedtime. They were meant to make him sleep, something which judging by the mysterious bags beneath Henry's eyes, he did little these days.

Henry took the herbs, just to appease his governess, a stern yet subtly gentle lady. They worked for a single night only. Afterwards, as if on extra coffee grounds, Henry grew far too hyper to sleep, and the tea failed to overcome his spontaneous, nervous energy. He knew where this resilience to sleep sprouted from: the Other Realm. It had to be! No other explanation presented itself to his mind. Far from being concerned, he was overjoyed by the prospect of seeing Her again. It was only with great concentration he remembered she wasn't his biological mother in the first place.

Tonight after a salivatingly tantalizing supper of roast beast, green beans, and mashed potatoes with gravy, Henry chose for them to play yet another exploring game. This time, the Other Mother hid something in the vast, elegantly dark living room, hinting that there might be something else in the boy's bedroom. Henry immediately dashed off towards the mantelpiece, hoping to find his prize quickly. Naturally, nothing out of the ordinary there- too obvious a place.

Having thoroughly inspected the living room, he dashed out into the hall, where for the first time he noticed a tall, oaken armoir. Odd, he could've sworn that had never stood there before. He was about to get another surprise.

The armoir moved. He'd barely touched it before it settled himself to his left. In its former spot was an ancient, dusty mirror.

His reflection warped and twisted to first tower above himself, then dwarfed to a third his size. What a funny mirror! He was having great fun waving his arms about and mocking himself when he felt a claw land upon his shoulder.

"I thought we were playing exploration, not making rude faces." It wasn't a claw, but the Other Mother's hand had startled him out of his shinanigans. Her tone was airy, but he could tell by her sulking frown that she was displeased with him.

"I was only playing, Mother. I'm sorry." What exactly was he apologizing for?

Luckily she seemed satisfied with him, and gracefully beamed down at him. Her black-button eyes flashed mischievously as she spoke, "Perhaps you need a hint. You'll find your gift in the place where green meets brown and moonlight shines all around."

Of course, the garden! It took him a surprisingly short amount of time to discover the only thing out of place: a silver threading needle in the bird bath. It was a rather disappointing present, but perhaps the more exciting part would be found in his bedroom.

He didn't have to look hard to find it. Nestled upon his silky white pillow was small, pretty pink-and-red striped box. Within that box were a pair of coal black buttons.

* * *

 **The darkness spreads and envelops all who are careless enough to be caught in it snares!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

For the first time, he was unpleasantly jolted from the world, bitterly, frightfully so.

"What the Hell is this?" Henry demanded as he practically thrust the package beneath the Other Mother's nose. He spoke more out of fear than arrogance, for surely she did not mean...

The Other Mother wrinkled her nose in disdain- or disgust. "Now that is no way to treat your mother. Especially not after she made such a lovely gift for you!"

Immediately, Henry looked down dejectedly, trying to look contrite. Had he gone too far? "Sorry, it's just... I don't understand."

Momentarily appeased, she almost smiled as she explained. "Well, I know how much you enjoy your stays here, so... I took the liberty of proccurring those buttons for you. They can be rather difficult to come by, and take great effort to craft, but what is some time and effort for love?" She smiled warmly, caressing his cheek. Henry fought not to recoil as she droned on about different colors available for the buttons, from orange to vermillion to sky blue. He had to escape, _now_.

"I'm terribly sorry, Other Mother..."

"Your better mother, darling."

"...but I'm afraid I must retire."

"Truly? Before desert, or tag?" She frowned in confusion.

"Indeed, I'm feeling awfully fatigued all of the sudden. Must've been the turkey!" He joked, purposefully failing to stiffle a yawn.

"Of course, dear! How neglectful of me not to have noticed you're tired. Off to bed with you! I'll just sing you your favorite-"

"Please, Mother, no lullaby tonight. I'm about to fall asleep on my feet!" Henry cried, swooning for emphasis. Immediately, she was at her feet and helping him upstairs to his bedroom.

He'd meant to barricade his door when he heard the click, but up until that point, he hadn't realized how exhausted he truly was- he could barely pull back the covers. As it were, barely had time to pray he was back in his real bedroom before he lapsed into unconsciousness.

His dreams were deeply unsettling, though try as he might, he couldn't remember them the next morning. Normally he never remembered his dreams, but this time he felt glimpses and scratches of itchy, scrabbly, tiny beings with far too many teeth and claws; they encircled him, entrapped him, teased him. All he recalled later were a few whispering, lingering versus:

 _We were here to help you rise,_

 _We'll be here after you die._

 _Titchy-fitchy, titchy-fitchy,_

 _la la, titchy-fitchy!_

 _We were here to see you rise,_

 _We'll be here to watch you fall!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

His prayers went unanswered, as he awoke in his miraculous bedroom, feeling groggier than usual. Was there a heaviness in the air? He didn't bother praying, for there wasn't any point- he knew something had changed. This was no longer the childhood wonderland he'd hoped it was. However, what exactly it _was_ remained to be seen. He was certainly not going to find out by languishing in his bedchamber.

The doorknob was stuck initially, but he managed to unlock it and stepped outside his room. Was it him, or was the hallway darker than it'd been before? It had always been a velvety gray, but now there was some soot mixed in with the mistiness. A bit annoying, but palatable. Still, surprising considering the apparent care she'd taken in maintaining the place... What was happening?

He followed the aroma of sweet, tangy cheddar and crisp, crackling bacon to the kitchen. She was at her customary place by the stove, yet she seemed different. She addressed him without even turning towards him. "Did you sleep well last night, dear?"

"Oh yes, I feel most refreshed," Henry replied, disguising a yawn as a stretch.

"Wonderful! Then later we can play hide-and-seek, if you're up to it." Her voice carried the same sickly sweetness, but her movements were more rigid, somehow. It was unnerving, to say the least- like an insect jerky around in its last moments. After last evening, he was distinctly uncomfortable around her.

"Um, actually, I need to rest today. I'm feeling awfully tired."

"Of course, dear! I should have thought... Poor darling, you must be exhausted! Want me to tuck you in with our special lullaby?"

"No! No thank you, I'll simply tuck myself in."

She paused, seemingly puzzled. Tapping her finger against her cheek, she finally nodded, apparently accepting his answer. "All right, dear. I'll be right down here if you need it."

He most certainly would not.

* * *

 **Hey guys! I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a while. Rest assured there will be more to come! ;)**

 **VibeQuake: I REALLY hope you're still reading and reviewing this! :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Henry squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they could go, to no avail. The one time he wanted sleep, sleep evaded him more than ever. It might have been because there was no lullaby, for in its absence oppressive silence reigned. He was too frightened to toss and turn at first, and remained shivering beneath the sheets for some time. Finally, when he felt a pearly-blue brightness penetrating the thin sheets, he poked his head out just enough to see...

The Moon. Moonlight was flooding in through the open window, illuminating all but the darkest of corners. Somehow, he felt better, safer within its rays. Gradually he sat up, curling up and drawing his knees to his chest, tears pricking his cheeks like- and he shuddered to think of this- a tiny sewing needle.

Would she truly do such a thing? Sew buttons into his eyes? Remembering her too-long fingers tapping on the counter and her cool, penetrating buttons, his heart knew the answer. Eventually, she'd catch on to his hesitation and dread, she'd grow suspicious and impatient. How long could he test her resolve? Would she grow angry with him? Would she change him by force, or wait believing he'd see her way of things?

Such dangerous thoughts to think in the Other Realm.

How foolish of him to ever have likened Her to mother! Mothers did not sew buttons into one's eyes; mothers did not grip one's shoulder in a spidery claw. Mothers did not prowl, as he felt sure She was doing now. Did he dare leave his room? No, better stay and enjoy the moonlight while it lasted... Cause when it did, he wasn't sure he'd be safe even here.

For hours or minutes (he did not know- time had lost all of its meaning for him) Henry stayed curled up in his bed, reveling in his misery, missing even his incompetent servants. The moon was now slinking away from his window, as if bidding him farewell. The shadows began emerging once more. Then the scratching began.

 _Scritch-scratch. scritch scratch._

So brief, he hoped he'd imagined it.

 _Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch._

 _We are climbing up the stairs!_

 _Tick-tack, scrit-scrat,_

 _We will drag you by the hairs!_

It was in that moment Henry learned a valuable life lesson: never assume things cannot get worse. Because inevitably they will. In the back of his mind, he suspected the voices sounded like rats would if they were hunting prey. Did rats hunt prey? Here they might.

Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch.

Henry leaped off the bed, cowering near the window. Assessing his surroundings, he realized belatedly there was no where for him to flee to besides the door. The very door standing between himself and the voices. A humming sound rose in the background, tickling his eardrums and making him twitch. When had _that_ begun? Whatever it was, it agitated the voices to new levels. To his horror, the drone fluctuated to the tune of his favorite lullaby. Soon, actual scratches began sounding from the wood, like a million nails on an antique dresser. Not good. With nowhere else to go, Henry shrank away from his only escape route and prayed.

Tears escaping him at last, he accepted his fate.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The grating sound grew nearer as the voices rose into a hair-losing crescendo, screaming off the walls and crying into his eardrums. Futilely, Henry tried protecting his hearing by clapping his hands on his ears, to no avail. They were everywhere, yet not in the room yet. They were in his head...

"STOP IT!"

Silence. Well, if he'd known shouting back would be so effective, he'd have done so from the beginning. Gingerly rising from his bed, he let the comforter slip to the floor as he approached the door, cringing at what he imagined the damage had to be on the other side. Quiet, a beastly, ghastly quiet, lurked behind it. He placed his tender ear to it.

 _Scratch!_ He jumped back, eyes bulging in terror. Akin to a dog trying to claw its way into a room, the creatures in the hallway no longer bothered singing, but instead bore down upon the wood in full force. _Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch!_ Henry retreated to the farthest corner of his room, cowering in dread. How had it come to this? Ironically, a very faint, dismal hope was that the racket would awaken the Other Mother, who might rush to his aid. _Or,_ a most unbidden voice retorted _, maybe it's her scratching a way in!_

 _Nonsense!_ She might be creepy, probably evil, but she didn't sound like a chorus of rodents. More like an insect... Besides, it sounded like there were a thousand of them, while she was only one. Still a ghostly image of her entered his brain, ethereal, dismal, wraith-like.

Then he heard a strange clicking noise, like heels on a marble floor. _Click-clack, click-clack._ "My little ones, shhhhh! We mustn't scare him, or soon he'll be gone forever." Were they connected telepathically? The Other Mother clacked up the stairs, and the scratching ceased. "Are you alright, my darling?" He stayed rooted. "Open the door."

Nothing to be done now- best to get the worst over with. She _had_ just saved him from those... Things. Reluctantly, he opened the door.

There she stood, somehow avoiding the candles' glow; shadows adorned her like wreaths- he could see a wisp twisted around her shoulders like an elegant wrap. "I hope my pets didn't frighten you. They get so overzealous, sometimes." Her dreamy tone suggested she'd woken from a glorious slumber, but he suspected otherwise- beings like her didn't need sleep.

"I am well, thank you."

"Goood," she smiled, her teeth longer than he remembered, he hair a rippling curtain of black water. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, in fact I was about to return to bed."

"Really? But it's almost morning! Why don't you join me for some breakfast, love? I'll make your favorite ommlet!"

Henry bit his lip- dare he risk arguing? Her posture tensed, her fingers tapping against the door frame. She waited. "Of course, Mother. Let me freshen up, and I will meet you downstairs."

* * *

 **Dear LockShockBarre,**

 **Thank you so much for your thoughtful review! Thank you even more for asking an excellent question! Feel free to ask more whenever you'd like. I was truly worried nobody bothered reading this one anymore. Anyway, Henry is not the ghost boy Coraline met in the movie. Anyone else care to guess who he will turn out to be? Don't fear, all will be revealed in the end... Maybe. ;)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

He had actually said that. He had told her he would join her downstairs, even suspecting who- what- she was. She beamed as brightly as a child being given a favorite piece of candy- only her's looked more serpentine. Deadlier. "Wooonderful," she droned. This last word slurred out with the enthusiasm of a drunk man.

"Are you all right, Other Mother? You sound strange," he finally ventured to ask.

"Just a bit... Tired, is all. I am well, daaaarling."

"Perhaps you should rest. I can always eat later- I'm not even hungry!"

"Nonsense! Cooking is no trouble at all- I enjoy it. Besides," she scraped a long, scarlet fingernail lightly across his left cheek, "You are too thin for my taste."

Henry gulped. "Very well. I shall get ready, then."

"Yess, you shall."

* * *

It took all the willpower he possessed not to slam the door shut after her- even the metallic click of the lock seemed too loud in the twilit room. A room which, he couldn't help noticing, had grown ever brighter when she'd insisted it was breakfast time, as though it truly were almost morning. She couldn't have... Could she?

Like a man doomed to hang, he carefully pulled out his best suit from his dresser drawers. Everything was still tinged in blue, oddly reflecting not the rosy dawn, but the aforementioned twilight. It matched his mood rather nicely. How had he never noticed this atmosphere before? If he thought too hard, everything felt muted and muffled, like cotton blurring his vision. Yes, that's how it was before, only he'd been too happy to notice.

Far from perking him up, the smell of melting cheddar on the omelette made his stomach growl the way it would if he were nauseous. Which he was. Still, he sat himself down and crammed forkful after forkful into his mouth, tasting brittle parchment. Why did the food taste so gray and sandy? The water he sipped seemed to have a coating of dust on it. Still he broke his fast; _she_ was watching across from him.

"Well? Have you decided?"

He almost choked on the last forkful. Here it was. "Decided what, ma'am?"

"Don't play coy with me. Have you decided?"

He ate. She tapped. Finally she caved a little. "Do you want the buttons or not?"

"I- I don't know. I need to consider some more."

"What is there to consider? You have a home, an hearth, a life. Freedom... A mother." He winced at this, but maintained eye contact with his half-eaten meal. "You have everyythiiiiing. What more do you want?"

Henry bit his lip, grateful she couldn't see his face. But she could sense his thoughts. "Are you truly so ungrateful? After all I've done? Welcomed you into my world, carved out a place for you, cooked for you, fed you at my table... And this is my reward?" There- the steely edge he'd suspected lurked within her now emerged through her tone. Shivering, he dared to look up- and nearly jumped back as her face hovered inches from his own.

"Discipline! Discipline for the unruly child!"

He ducked beneath her sweeping arms and crawled under the table to the opposite side, racing to the door. The living room, dark as a black hole, swallowed him up as he entered. Her clicks followed him as he ducked behind the armchair. What was that foul stench? And why were the walls so damp? He didn't do very well under moldy conditions... He laughed- what a silly thought to entertain now! He was being chased by a mad creature! Speaking of which, where was she? He could have sworn she had followed him inside...

Click, click, click!

Just outside the entryway! If only there was a door he could slam... But then he'd have been trapped in here, which felt equally dangerous for some reason. Where was that tiny door? Where was his passage home? There! He turned the handle...

Locked.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"You didn't reeeeaalllly expect me to leave it open, did you?"

He cringed as he felt her approach, finally to stand beside the tiny door.

"Mustn't leave doors open for curious little wanderers," she smirked, holding out her hand. To Henry's horror, an enormous rat dashed between his legs from behind himself, carrying the key between its fangs. It dropped the item into her pale palm. She swallowed it, gulping a wet, contented gulp. "For their own safety. Even when they betray us, torture us, _murder_ us withe their ungrateful ways!" She slunk towards him and lay a delicate touch upon his shoulder, like a mourner comforts one during a funeral. "We must love our children, our little thieves."

"I'm not a thief," Henry whispered.

"Yes you are, my daaaaaarling. You have stolen my heart away! My kingdom, my very _world_! And now," she leaned down to his eye level and tapped his nose playfully. "Now, you must pay the price."

Henry trembled. There was no escape- her soft touch had turned to steel.

* * *

How long he lay there, he did not know. It was so dark, so murky and dreary... The rocky wall jabbed into his back, but at least he wasn't bound. She probably felt that would have been too rough... He couldn't recall having fainted, only being brought to this dismal place. He slumped forward, his forehead bumping his knees lightly as he groaned in suppression. He was so cold... Creaking his head upward, he noticed a one-way mirror before him, its silvery sheen the only thing offering a wisp of illumination in the room. A curious, hopeful voice twinged at him to inch forward. _Get up, get up take a closer look,_ it urged. Reluctantly, he dragged himself to his feet, his ankles creaking with the effort. He crept forward; the mirror's surface was ice beneath his fingertips. At least it cooled his forehead enough, dimming the feverish despair within himself. This was no exit; he was imprisoned. Wonderful.

How long would she keep him here? Until he surrendered. No, there had to be another way. Henry rubbed his eyes- how they pricked! Were needles jabbing into them already? "No, no needles, no thread," his reflection assured him. Also no way out.

Tears pricked his eyes as he bit his lip. No, no tears... His father would have scolded him for them! A man acted, not mourned. If he were here now, he might have said something different...

He'd been foolish, so foolish! How could he have believed that creature was his mother, even for a moment? No mother locked her child away. And now he would remain here forever...

Was that tea? Tea with a bit of crumpled jam and... Crumpets? His governess could barely cook without scalding oatmeal, but his mother... Her masterpieces should have been preserved in a museum, not consumed at the dinner table! Her soups always warmed the belly, always returned the flush to his cheeks when he was sullen. Her oven-baked chicken, lightly peppered with basil and salt... Her chocolate cake...

He yelped at a crack behind him, jumping to the far end of his prison. Not so much as a crack in the sliver surface. But he'd felt something, heard something!

He closed his eyes, thinking, feeling. A warmth bubbled in the space, somewhere behind him, somewhere near him. His mother's basil chicken wafted in his nostrils...

A spiderweb of cracks spread from his index finger.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Instinctively he ducked as the shower of glass rained upon him. How easily it gave! He glanced behind himself, his dank, dreary prison curled up in retreat. The smells had vanished, leaving behind only the shades of memory- the last remnants of strength he possessed. Silence, despite the crash of the mirror. Nothing breathing but himself. _Did_ she breathe?

Reluctantly- it had been a barricade between himself and her, however dismal it had been- Henry turned around. Always put one's best foot forward.

She was in the kitchen, making her cheese omelette as if nothing had transpired. But much had, much had... He now had the beginnings of a plan. He would find her rules, figure out how this realm works... Only then did he have a chance. "May I go outside?"

A pause. "Outside? But there's the rain," she sighed dreamily.

"What rain?" Thunder cracked in response.

She smirked. "That rain."

"Oh, but I love the rain!" He didn't, it was dreadful for his allergies. "It makes the best puddles. And children love puddles, do they not, Mother?"

Her hands froze above the pan as she pondered. Finally, she said, "Finish your breakfast. Then we will talk."

Sigh, how could he have expected it be so easy? Henry slid into his seat. The eggs slid onto his plate like sludge onto land. He shuddered. "You've been a very naughty boy, Henry. Very naughty! Why should I let you go outside? You could play in your room with all your little toys."

"I-I want to go outside. I need the fresh air, sunlight!"

"Hmm, _very_ naughty..."

"I'm sorry," he glued his eyes to his breakfast, the image of contrition. "I will be better, I promise. I... Think more clearly outside. I would consider your offer."

She glared at him, eyes now fully hardened into those dreadful, black buttons, flashing in time with the tapping of her nails. Had they grown since he's last seen them? And her smile wider, a fang poking out of a corner.

Finally, the tapping ceased. "I suppoooossse fresh air would help you," she drawled. "But do not stray far. And be home before dark."

It's always dark outside. Still, he nodded, shoving his meal away untouched. Unasked, she held his coat out for him as he slipped his arms through it; he slipped out of her cold, hard embrace.

He slammed the door shut before she could change her mind.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The least of them can be the most whiteness was beyond mist, beyond fog, beyond anything Henry had ever seen or experienced. So resolute, so absolute! He shoved his hands in his pockets, whistling in a vain effort to keep the damp and dreariness at bay.

No, this wasn't quite dreariness, and the yard and woods were remarkably dry. It was just the sky was gray... Perhaps if he went farther away, he would find a weakness, for there must be one. The woods surrounding him paused as if in deep breath, the branches and tree trunks arching away from him, making way for him yet arching away like a cat.

 _Whistle, whistle, and the dark will go away,_ he sighed. _Whistle whistle, and the spirits come to play._ No wait, that's not right; how did that rhyme go? Did it matter? He tripped over a root, nearly stumbling to the ground before catching himself on a helpful tree limb. Well, he'd have to take care to avoid that on the way back.

What to do, what to do? He sensed her impatience, following him, shadowing his every movement. She wanted him, Henry was certain; why, he did not know. For surely a creature such as herself was incapable of love? She'd locked him away! And there he might have stayed, had he not broken out. As he must do now, break away, fly away!

He walked through the pines and the dirt. He walked through the wind whispering kind words to him, gentle as the promises the Other Mother had made. All beguiling witchery... He walked as the dirt slipped away and eventually level out as he approached a house. Such a grand building, if a little gray. Wait a minute... Impossible!

The Gray Palace stood before him. But he'd been walking in the opposite direction! How?! Immediately, he spun around, walking some distance before reaching the same destination again.

This was not possible.

Frantic now, he returned to the forest, hurtling himself through the twigs snarling at his face and clothes. He must get away, for surely She was right behind him! He tripped over a root, snapping from hi desperate plight. "Is that the _same root_ I had fallen on earlier?" He was walking in circles! Carefully he rose, dusting off his coat before resuming his pace. There must be a way. This time, he must take note, maintain his awareness. Perhaps if he tried a different direction entirely... What if he turned left at that log instead of right? As e wandered, the trees grew thinner, less overbearing. He scratched some bark off; it flaked in his fingers, but drifted upwards instead of downwards as it should have. He looked up. The sky was gray before- why had it turned white?

There _was_ no sky. Ahead he could see there was no ground, no trees, nothing.

He had reached the end of the world.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The end of the world... A term so many took for granted, a distant concept nobody truly understood. Until now. He giggled morosely as he considered his status- he might be the only person so privileged as to see the end of the world! Well, the end of _a_ world. The more he pondered, the more gnarled his insides grew; in all his playtimes, all their laughter and activities, he had never once seen another soul accept for Her. Not one! His brow furrowed in loneliness at the memories. Was there any escape for him?

The realization of how very trapped he was here made him slightly claustrophobic, but her persevered. There was a way, there had to be a way for him to leave! Yet she had him, had him in her claws- hence why, he guessed, she had allowed him outdoors- even here, her power reigned.

He clawed through the dead, gray-black trees, twigs gnashing and snatching at his hair and clothes. He ran on, pounding through the mud. He would run forever if he must, but he _had_ to leave!

Exhaustion crippled him enough to slow him down, force him to rest beneath the weathered, wooden porch. The moon glimmered mockingly overhead, two black craters mimicking craters stared him down. He closed his eyes.

The front door moaned open, a shadowy, clawed hand beckoned him inside. He followed wordlessly.

He knew what he had to do, but he did not look forward to it one bit.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"Did you have a pleasant walk?" She hushed as he crossed the threshold, taking great care to avoid her arm opening the door for him.

"Yes," he almost added 'mother' on reflex, but found he could no longer choke out the word- creatures like her deserved no such endearments.

"You're shivering," she said. No note of concern, no question, no worrying over him catching a cold- just a blank statement.

"Merely the wind," Henry replied. Dismally, he realized she wasn't slurring anymore- her voice was still quiet, but firmer, stronger. What was feeding her? Another shiver rippled through him as he looked up at her, but her face, shrouded by shadow, revealed nothing. What did other mothers eat?

 _Children_ , his inner voice hissed. Shaking his head, he bit his lip. "I- I am tired, Mother." (how his teeth gritted on that term!) "I wish to go to bed early."

Though he could see nothing more than her clear-cut, white grin, he felt sure she arched an eyebrow. "Already? No supper?"

Henry yawned, stretching out his spine for emphasis. "Yes. I'm sorry- I know we had, plans tonight." _If you consider sewing buttons into my eyes as a plan._

Her teeth morphed into a frown. "It's all right, dear- I understand you grow tired easily, with your... Condition." How did she know about his scoliosis? "You must rest if you're to remain here. Want me to carry you?"

"No! I mean, no thank you, M-Mother, I can manage."

"Would you like a bedtime story?" She called up as he reached the top landing. He paused, internally wrestling with himself- if he wanted her to trust him, he really should accept her offer. Yet that voice... He would hear that voice in his dreams tonight if his plan failed. He might not even have a plan anymore, actually, not if he couldn't convince her he was harmless. And what did he truly know of her likes and dislikes? All hope hinged on a single guess!

The greatest heroes always endured torment. "Yes."

Later on, he regretted agreeing to that story. The room loomed and darkened from her presence: her shadow, looming and stretching on the wall, her fingers ticking and clacking as she turned the pages, her nails scraping against his cheek and scalp as she brushed his hair away from his face. her cold, dry lips brushing against his forehead nearly broke him- he nearly leapt out of bed and made a run for it! Yet her persevered, ignoring the perspiration on his skin, which did not help his chills one bit. He closed his eyes throughout the bedtime story, but her whispered tones of blackness and death still lingered in his brain and entered his dreams as he slept.

His plan had better work. Was she off her guard enough?

Doubtful.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

He cowered beneath the covers all night long, knowing it would do no good. No longer naive enough to think the covers alone could keep the monsters at bay... He waited until the lock clicked before tossing the sheets aside and springing upwards. Prepare, how to prepare! For the night was waning- a palatable urgency smothered the air, rising with the gray fog outside. If he did not leave soon, he may linger here forever. What to gather, what to gather...

These flimsy pajamas would not do at all! He yanked a woolen sweater over them, mounted some sturdy slippers. The sweater smelled of comfort and cinnabons and warm blankets. Still, he would need more than a warm outfit He packed a flashlight, some crackers, binoculars, a rock (for defense). No time for play! How was he supposed to find the exit without any light or guidance? For last night he realized... She wouldn't have made things so easy. Of course escape would lurk in the house itself! There must be some other way besides the tiny door. He rose, reaching for some gloves, when ouch! What had he stepped on? He picked it up- strange rock. What formation had a hole in the middle? Instinctively he peered through it- and nearly dropped it in shock. The room had turned gray! Wait a minute; as delicately ash he would pick up a gemstone, Henry picked up the stone and inspected it more closely. Nothing remarkable about it except for the hole in the center. He held it up to his eye again: the room's pastel colors washed out into shades of gray. This was significant, he could feel it! Who had given it to him? Could it be a trick of Hers? Somehow he doubted it- somehow, he knew he must hide the stone deep in his pocket if she was around, for she must never find it. Having triple checked his pack, Henry cautiously turned the elegant handle and creaked open the door.


End file.
